(Untitled)

[veryvorkosigan]

She hasn't been avoiding Milliways, exactly. Really she hasn't.

But with Aral's injury last month, she's been busier than usual. She's been handling her own work, along with as much of Aral's work as he'll let her do. Over half; and the fact that he hasn't fought harder to do more of it is truly frightening, if she lets herself think about it

Comments

[sign_seeker]

On the screen is a round-faced man, indefinably middle-aged, with brown hair and eyes that crinkle at the corners. Cordelia knows him well -- though far better as a sixteen-year-old boy from Buckinghamshire, England, 1977

[veryvorkosigan]

Cordelia frowns deeply as the recording ends. Her fingers tap idly at the wood of her commconsole, then reach out to the controls to play the recording back a second time.

She pauses on certain phrases, playing them back more than once. Now is an appropriate time for it ... It is a protection for you, in any time ... You cannot be controlled, not truly, not by those who stand against me ... it is a shield, and it is better I think for you to know of it. I will not, under other circumstances...

"Will Stanton," she says finally, aloud into the empty room, "that has got to be the subtlest yell for help I've ever heard."

She sits there a few minutes longer, eyeing the half-familiar face. Then in a brisk motion she shuts off the recording, gets to her feet, and heads for a particular corridor off the bedroom she shares with Aral.